


Crowley Barbeque

by Mossyrock



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale to the rescue, Crowley causing chaos, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Or Demon Burning, Period Typical Witch Burning, for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: The world is obsessed with burning witches. While Crowley might not be a witch, he did cause enough trouble to get himself tried as one. Several times.Another certain celestial being swoops in to save him.For my Ineffable Husbands bingo prompt - Burning at the stake.





	Crowley Barbeque

Crowley was getting fed up with being set on fire. He hadn’t meant to make a habit of it, really. But for some reason, people just kept lighting him up like a candle on a dark and stormy night. It was becoming rather tiresome.

The general populace's trend of seeing witches everywhere had to stop at some point.

He wasn’t a witch, obviously. But, being a demon, he supposed the humans could be forgiven for mistaking him for one. When all manner of bizarre things happened around him, it tended to draw their attention. Then they made assumptions and here he was – being lit on fire again.

This would be the fifth time. Or maybe the sixth. Either way, he was sick of being discorporated and having to ask for a new body every time. Hell was starting to ask some rather uncomfortable questions.

At least this time, he deserved it. He’d been careless, throwing his demonic powers around. He’d been caught tempting a tavern full of people to anger. Violence was one of humanity’s greatest weaknesses and incredibly easy to exploit. One spilt drink here, one misheard comment there and suddenly an entire crowd was engaging in a good old-fashioned bar brawl. Wrath was one of the seven deadly sins after all.

He supposed that burning people at the stake was also pretty sin-like. Thou shalt not kill blah, blah, blah. He was doing Hell a service every time he got himself roasted. They should be thanking him. But did he ever get any recognition? Like Hell he did. 

He was led, tied up in frankly pathetically thin and tattered rope, to the bonfire that had been set up in the middle of the town. He sighed as he climbed up and had his hands secured to the post. Like it would stop him if he really wanted to escape.

“Any final words, witch?”

Crowley knew that he should make a fuss. Beg a little. Maybe scream or rage. But hysterics weren’t really his scene. He’d much rather go with a cool disinterest. Again.

“Nope.” He popped the p, just to annoy Major Pulsifer, witchfinder extraordinaire. At least this time he’d been caught by a ‘professional’.

“Alright then. If that’s the way you want it.” Pulsifer shrugged and bent to light the fire.

Around the circle, other townsfolk did the same. It wasn’t long until the fire was a raging inferno. Crowley should've been feeling the burn, but having spent so much time around infernal fire, this normal everyday fire didn’t even sting. Though, it was ruining another one of his best outfits. He’d need to visit the tailor again. Except that his current tailor was one of the people burning him alive. So maybe he’d better find a new one.

Just as the flames started to teasingly lick at his face – the flirty, cheeky little thing – the clouds gathered above as if from nowhere and started unloading what felt like a years’ worth of rain upon the bonfire, extinguishing the flames in moments. All the crowd had fled from the torrential downpour, except two figures. One, was Pulsifer. The other, lit up as if by magic, was a shorter, blonder being.

“I guess I’m free to go?” He smirked at the witchfinder and sauntered off the now smouldering pile of ash, dusting off and straightening his jacket.

“You won’t get away with this, witch!” He yelled after him.

“Sure, sure.” He waved him off. “Hello, angel. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Really, Crowley. Again?” Aziraphale fussed, miracling Crowley’s clothes back to their former state, though the smell of smoke would never really leave them. Crowley knew the angel liked to fuss, so he let him do it. 

“What can I say? I like a barbeque.” He gave him a smug grin.

“I won’t always be around to save you.” Aziraphale continued his fretting.

Crowley knew it was a lie. Just like he pretended he ‘just so happened’ to be around to save the angel every time he got himself into sticky situations. Or that sometimes a crazy coincidence meant that Aziraphale’s jobs were done with very little effort on his part and a little bit of a nudge from the opposition. It was the charade they played, just to maintain enough distance for plausible deniability, should anyone ask. Not that anyone ever asked. 

About 600 years ago, Crowley had finally convinced the angel to agree to his idea of saving time, just letting each other be and maybe lending a helping hand every so often. An Arrangement. It hadn't been easy, but he'd appealed to the angel's logical side. Aziraphale was smart. He knew that them constantly fighting over territory was a waste of time and energy that could be better spent... Doing whatever an angel and a demon did when they weren’t busy achieving absolutely nothing.

Personally, Crowley quite liked the idea of sleeping more. Maybe take up a hobby, like knitting or gardening. Although, they seemed a bit too tame for a demon like him. He’d have to come up with something cooler than that.

He was tempted to imagine himself and the angel spending some more time together, if they had some free time to kill.

Crowley had grown rather fond of the stuffy, stubborn angel, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone – least of all himself. He supposed it was a by-product of not having anyone else to talk to, up here on Earth. Humans came and went in the blink of an eye. It was hard to grow attached to any of them, when they would just disappear the next minute.

And as much as he had in common with the other demons, they weren’t exactly stunning conversationalists. They were slightly too preoccupied with death and destruction. It was off-putting. Hell wasn’t a very welcoming place, so he tended to avoid visiting, if possible. The other demons didn’t much like Earth either. Too much happiness and light made them sick.

So that left the angel – Aziraphale. He was intelligent. And funny. And completely endearingly clueless. At the beginning, Crowley had wondered if he was a little crazy, giving away the sword like he had. But he had genuinely been trying to help. It was very angelic, in his own special way.

“Speaking of barbeques, I was thinking we could pop across to China and get some crispy pork?” He asked, not quite ready to part from him again so soon. He knew the angel’s weaknesses and was not above exploiting it for his own gain. Crowley suspected that he could get Aziraphale to agree with anything if it involved delectable food.

“Ooooh. That sounds delicious,” He practically salivated, before pausing, “But shouldn’t we be doing some work?”

Crowley sighed. He’d have to work on convincing him to fully embrace this Arrangement thing, since Aziraphale still seemed hesitant. It wouldn’t do.

“Angel, you know that neither Upstairs nor Down There care, so long as we’re apparently doing something. I report that I tempted these people into murder, you tell your people that you saved an innocent man,” That earned Crowley a glare that lacked any hint of malice at all (Aziraphale would’ve made a terrible demon. His face just couldn’t imitate anger. It was too soft.), “And boom! Done. Everyone wins. Commendations and fine cuisine all around.”

“Well, if you’re sure, my dear.” Aziraphale was quick to agree.

“I’m sure. Now, shall we?” He held out his arm, which Aziraphale looped his own through. With a pop, they were gone from the dreary English village and had appeared in a bustling city in China.

They spent the next week travelling around China, eating and sightseeing. It was nice, though if anyone asked, they were busy working to do good/cause mischief. But really, the longer Crowley spent with Aziraphale, the more he was dreading parting from him again. He was beginning to think that he should put himself in danger more often, if it meant he could tempt the angel to spend more time with him. Would he feel bad tricking Aziraphale? No. He was a demon. Tricking people was what he did.

Thankfully and unfortunately, not too long after – after a disastrous witch burning that levelled an entire town (thanks to some nails and gunpowder) – burnings went out of style. Crowley worried that he might need to come up with some new ways to lure a certain celestial being to his side.

But he needn’t have worried. Somehow, they just seemed to run into each other, over and over throughout time almost as if by design. 

And then the Antichrist was born…

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of Aziraphale being the one to save Crowley for once. Sure, we see Crowley running to the angel's side at the first hint of trouble, but Aziraphale is a strong independent angel who can also save his beloved from time to time. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. 
> 
> As always, I'd love feedback. But no pressure.


End file.
